Crossroad Mirrors
by Alone in the Desert
Summary: Alex has a thing or two to say to Alanna about Conte men and their habbits. Twisted, slashy, uncanon standalone


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Disclaimer: All characters and locations herein are the property of Tamora Pierce. Plot and actual written words owned by me. 

A/N: This story doesn't even pretend to follow canon. A scene was stuck in my head and I wrote it. I did not have my reference materials when I did -- many details may be off. In addition, the story contains a rather wild and uncalled for interpretation of the characters from the Song of the Lioness quartet. Slash is implied, although not written outright. Please proceed with caution. 

Crossroad Mirrors 

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Parallel Plights 

"Alan? May I have a word with you?" 

That was how it started. This nightmare, I mean. This… oddness. Whatever it may be, it started plainly enough. Just a talk with a friend, perfectly innocent, and nothing to raise eyebrows about. I was fifteen, or so, and I was smack dab in the middle of it all -- an inheritance battle the likes of which history had forgotten could happen, at least in its magnitude, and its destruction. In its character it was something quite different. Perhaps in foreign lands, Carthak, Yaman, Maren, they are used to fighting such underhanded battles. But we in Tortall are used to fighting our fights in the battlefields, not in the bedrooms of childhood friends. 

I was fifteen, and he was nineteen. He was a knight, and my better, but we were friends. Rather, so I was sure, but things turned out to have been so much more complicated than I wanted to believe, even back then. Even back then his eyes looked at me and did not see a friend. It may have started when he turned squire. I don't know. Back then I _certainly_ didn't. Alex wanted to talk with me, and what reason did I have to question his intent? I was out and about more than the other squires, and we hadn't talked in a while. 

We were in his room, and he poured wine. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. 

"So, how's our friend Jon for a knight-master?" asked Alex, smiling. "I've always thought it was chancy business, squiring for a friend, but you two seem to get along as good as ever. Better, maybe." 

"We do," I agreed. "Jon's a good knight-master. Not too demanding, not too negligent." 

He toyed with his glass. "You don't fear your friendship would be damaged by the change in your relationship?" 

I laughed carelessly. "Why should I?" 

"Jon…" Alex hesitated. "Jonathan is not a bad man, but he is very… aware of himself." 

I stiffened. "I don't think I catch your meaning." 

"Well, he's an only son, and all, and their majesties must have doted on him, I mean, that's the best explanation…" 

"Stop dancing around, Alex," I ordered, "and just spit it out!" 

"He's rather egotistical, Alan," he said, "I don't know if you'd noticed. He thinks of the wants and needs of others only once his own are satisfied. And his wants and needs are… of royal proportions." 

I was angry. "Alex, what the hell are you talking about?" I demanded. 

He was very quiet, for a time. As I remember, he was looking down at his glass, his hands busy, always shifting it or turning it in circles. Then he looked up and caught my eyes, and there was tension, thicker and stronger than I can explain. I don't know what passed there, but it passed, because the tension broke like ice in a skating pond. It broke when he said those words. 

"_I know_." 

"W-what?" I stammered. I was in shock. 

He swiped the glass way from himself and, half-getting up, leaned in close, those eyes of his staring at me like anything. He'd just been my friend, Alex, until then. I'd no idea his eyes could be so… intense. 

"I _know_, Alan." 

My heart was hammering, and I could feel cold sweat gather on my face and palms. I tried to speak offhandedly. "I don't know what you're talking about, Tirragen," I said lightly. 

He smiled. "You do," he objected quietly. 

I said nothing, but started to get up. 

"You and Jon, my dear. It's not the friendship it once was." 

I tried to ignore him and made for the door. He got up smoothly, his movements as graceful here as they'd ever been in the fencing courts. With a few quick steps he blocked my way, leaning back against his closed door, looking down at me with those _eyes_. 

"His Highness is an egotistical man," he said again. "He was born into privilege, and has come to expect that everything he wants will come dancing obediently into his lap." His face was growing angry, bitter. "He was like that when we were squires, and he's still like that. I thought our friendship would remain, but be stronger. I was wrong. Men like him, they're all alike. You should run from him, little squire, not come willingly into his service." 

I shook my head. "Alex, you're talking nonsense," I said, my scare from earlier all but forgotten. "I should go, now. I have lessons, and work to do. You have work, too, surely." 

He sighed, but moved away from the door. I left, trying to pretend I was less relieved than I was. "You're making a mistake," he said softly as I walked by him and out the door. 

I thought he was being ridiculous. "What are you talking about?" I said, uncomprehending. "I've got it all under control." 

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Knowledge of Power 

It was a week after that first, frightening talk that Alex became strange again. "We are alike, you and I," he said, then. 

I got up. "Look, Alex," I said, "if you're going to talk crazy like last time I won't stay. I don't have patience for your stupid jokes. Honestly, I don't know what's happened to you, lately." 

He seemed offended, even hurt. 

"Alex…" I started. It's not like I _wanted_ to hurt him! He was my friend! 

"What, Alanna?" he asked quietly, catching my eyes, pinning my to my seat with shock. 

He smiled a sad smile. "I told you I knew," he pointed out, "but you didn't listen. Did you listen to anything I said?" 

I felt faint. "You know." 

"I know," he repeated. 

"You…" I started, unsure of how to ask this vital question, knowing I could not spare it. 

"I won't tell," he promised, and now his smile was playful, not sad. 

I suppose he didn't expect it, but I smacked him next, right across the shoulder. "Alex!" I cried. "Have you any idea how much you scared me? How did you find out? Who else knows?" 

"Alanna!" he put up his hands in defense. I stopped my battering and just glared at him. 

"Well?" I asked again, hands on hips. 

"As far as I know," he said, "no one knows but the people you told, and me. As for how I found out, that's not important now. What's important is, your position is quite special, and it puts you in danger." 

"I think I'm in quite enough danger, thank you," I replied tartly. 

"Are you being blackmailed by anyone?" he asked, crossing his arms on his chest. 

"No!" I said strongly. "Do you intend to be the first?" 

His eyes unfocused suddenly. "The first…" he murmured to himself. He closed his eyes, then opened them, looking right at me. "I am more on your side than anyone at court, Alanna," he answered firmly. 

"Not Jon," I argued. "He took me for his squire, even though I'm a girl." 

Alex looked thoughtful. "This is worse than I thought," he admitted. "At least, if I take your meaning right. Jonathan knows you're a girl?" 

I nodded. 

"He can hurt you, then." 

"So can you," I pointed out. "You've already made it clear you don't like Jon as much as you've led him to believe, these past few years. 

"No!" Alex looked dismayed. "You're taking this all wrong. I don't love Jonathan any less now than I did then. Except… I'm older, now. A little wiser, a little more experienced. Now I can see his flaws, as well as his virtues. And his flaws can hurt you in ways he has no idea of." 

"I can't believe you're saying this," I retorted flatly. "Stop." 

"I won't, Alanna," he insisted. 

"Jon is my friend, he wouldn't hurt me!" I said. 

Alex shook his head. "He doesn't _want_ to, of course," he said softly. "He's a good man, unlike some. He doesn't abuse his power, not really, because he doesn't notice himself using it. He was _born_ to power, Alanna. He drowns in it." 

"Drowns?" I asked skeptically. 

"The power of the crown prince," said Alex in that soft, terrifying voice. "The power of a mage. The power of a knight over his squire. And his good looks, and that damned Conté charisma…" 

"What's your point?" I demanded irritably. 

"My point," he said in a more ordinary voice, straightening up in his chair, "is that Prince Jonathan has a lot of power over you. You are not on equal footing, and so the relationship between you could only hurt you." 

"That's ridiculous!" I was angry again, and flustered. "Jon and I have been friends for years, now, and our friendship hasn't hurt me at all!" I tried to ignore the other implications of what he said. If he knew my real name, maybe he knew… 

"On the other hand…" his voice was odd in its casualness. Fake. "Ours has never been _anything_ but equal." 

"If you're trying to make me feel weak and inferior, you're failing," I informed him icily. "I learned myself just how good I was, _years_ ago." 

"You used to complain that you were so small, remember?" Alex was saying. "Back when we were all pages, and Gary would tease you because you were smallest. Actually, he was teasing both of us. We _are_ more alike than you'd imagine, Alanna." 

I was wavering. He was pulling me to my feet, murmuring softly to me, his mouth far too close to my ear, his breath too warm on my cheek. "Go on, Alanna. Go back to you knight master. Come back tomorrow night, and we'll see how you feel then." 

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An Eye for an Eye

I came. I came with the feeling that I shouldn't, that I was doing something wrong. But, what was that to me? I was used to the feeling, and felt at home with it. So I was uncomfortably at my ease knocking on Alex's door. "Page Alan," he whispered as he let me in, and I shivered. 

"What do you want?" I demanded, whispering. 

Slowly, slowly, he smiled. 

I think for a long time afterwards he did nothing but look me in the eye, and I could not, for the life of me, look away. I couldn't say how long it was, but I wasn't prepared for it when he finally made his move. We were standing, face to face, in the middle of his room. Just standing, looking at each other. It was one of those quick, graceful movements of his that I'd envied a little, back when I was a first-year page and hadn't found my sword-hand yet. 

I pulled my hand away from his and backhanded him as hard as I could. My pulse was racing; if it came to a fight, he would beat me. He was no wrestler, but even he was better than I. A weapon, a way out, anything would have helped me then. Then I saw him, really saw him. A hand pressed to a reddened cheek, dark eyes deep with the hurt of a beaten puppy. 

"My apologies. Did I startle you?" Once again, he moved to take my hand. I stepped back, suspicious, but he just brought it to his lips. I could feel the blush creeping in, and was on the verge of using my Gift to make it go away. 

"A knight knows how to treat a lady with respect," he said softly. "Remember that, when you're a knight, Alanna." 

"Why are you doing this?" My voice sounded feminine and pleading, and I hated it. 

"You are special," he said softly. "Has your knight master ever told you that?" 

"But…" 

"Alanna!" He was adamant. "Sit." 

We sat. The whole exchange between us was unreal. I didn't leave because I couldn't bring myself to believe this was really happening to me, because it made no sense. And in that odd dream-place Alanna the squire was sitting with Alex the knight and hearing him say the strangest things about her. 

"Do you remember what I told you about Jonathan?" he was asking. "Do you understand?" 

"That he uses his power unjustly without realizing it," I was just repeating his words, not believing them. "That he will hurt me without meaning to." 

Alex nodded firmly. "Exactly. He will _use_ you, Alanna. Use you because you're his squire and you're a girl and you're in hiding. And because he's a prince, and a Conté." 

How could he know all this, I remember wondering. What is the source of his information? There was something so strange about Alex just then, like a summation of all the strangeness he'd displayed since he first became squire. 

And those eyes, and that soft, dangerous voice. "I would never use you. Never would I approach you as anything but an equal." 

He stood. Slowly he drew off his black velvet tunic and let it drop to the floor. I got up, my pulse pounding in my ears, and backed up to the door, afraid to take my eyes off his, not knowing what he might do next. 

What he did next was take off his shirt. If he'd noticed I was scrabbling for the door handle he said nothing of it. He said nothing at all, and didn't look at me, till he was standing there in his loincloth, a man four years my senior, who'd once been my friend and was now just… being odd. 

"You see, Alanna?" he asked, pleading. "Do you see the difference?" 

I shook my head. "Don't do this, Alex." 

His shoulders slumped. "Why can't you understand?" he asked bitterly. 

I _didn't_ understand. 

"_He_ would never do this," said Alex venomously. "That's not what making the first move means to _him_. To _him_ it's just control, and _you'd_ be the one who had to expose your weakness, your vulnerability, first." He sounded like he knew what he was talking about. In retrospect, I suppose he did know. Back then I couldn't have guessed where his words were coming from. 

"I'm leaving now, Alex." My voice came out more feeble than I intended, and my legs didn't move soon enough to please. 

"Fine!" said Alex spitefully. "Go if you must. But _please_, Alanna, remember what I told you! Don't lose yourself in him, no matter how compelling, how charming and attractive his love may seem. He'll use you." 

I shook my head, and opened the door. My treacherous feet took one step out, then another. I stopped. "Goodbye." I guess it was meant to be a peace token of sorts, but he never answered. He never mentioned any of it again. Maybe he forgot. It wouldn't be much more odd than the rest of it. 


End file.
